


From The Desk Of...

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Letters between Remus and Sirius throughout the course of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From The Desk of Messr. Moony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus writes a letter to Sirius. "I love you. No, it’s not just that I love you. I’m in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a quote from The Fault In Our Stars by John Green (full quote at end)

P~

I love you.

No, it’s not just that I love you. I’m _in_ love with you.

It’s a subtle difference, but, nevertheless, it is a difference.  Although, really, it’s only the addition of two words. Who would have thought two words could so drastically change the meaning of an otherwise terribly simple sentence, especially when those words are “in” and “with”? It’s terrifying to think  that two little, trivial words could mean so much. They are hardly important in other contexts. They shouldn’t carry such weight. Alas - unfortunately - they do.

I almost wish it weren’t so. I almost wish I could say that I only love you. It’s like…dessert. I have always enjoyed dessert. I sometimes allow myself to indulge, though I don’t necessarily _need_ to eat it following every single meal. There are even days on end when I am okay without one single spoonful of pudding. Of course I often _think_ about dessert; it was just never needed. But now… Well, now I find myself _craving_ dessert. All day. Every day. It’s at the forefront of my mind every second of every minute of every hour. Constantly. Dessert. The way it smells, the way it looks, the way I imagine it tastes, feels, sounds…

I guess what I’m trying to say is _you_ are dessert. You are an indulgence that I know I should avoid. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about you and your contagious smile and your perfectly coifed hair and your brilliant eyes and your bloody obnoxious laugh and the way you walk around the dormitory in just a towel after a shower and the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you’re really, truly happy and that look you get when you think of some new way to torture Snape and _Merlin_ , look what you’re doing to me, I’ve just written a run-on sentence.

That’s what you do to me. I forget about punctuation and proper syntax when I think of you. I don’t _care_ about punctuation and proper syntax when I think of you. I don’t give a damn. That run-on sentence should be painful, but it isn’t. That’s just what it’s like when I’m with you. I can forget about things. I don’t have to worry about schoolwork or the next full moon. I don’t have to think about what I’m going to say. I can let go of my frustrations and worries and just… _be_. I can _be_ , furry little problem and all.

I suppose that’s what matters most to me. You let me be myself. You _like_ me when I’m myself, even if that means I’m books and boring and tea and cardigans and scars and school and commas and monster. Because that is what I am. The composition of a Moony is ever as exciting as History of Magic, I know. But you don’t care. You never have. There are times you make fun of me for my boring, of course, but that’s to be expected. You still never _care_. You still like me. You’re still my best friend. Even when you’re laughter and excitement and danger and leather and cigarettes and firewhiskey and pranks and charm and devilishly attractive, you’re my best friend. Never would I have thought, even for a second, that two people such as ourselves would have grown as close as we have. But we have, and I thank Merlin for that every day.

Although I will admit that when we first met I wanted nothing more than to wring your neck. You were an obnoxious child. You still are (please note that I do find it horribly endearing, Merlin help me). You can be childish and whiny, and you pout when you don’t get your way. You never do your schoolwork, though you somehow manage to pass every class with top marks, which is beyond infuriating. You get on my nerves more often than not. You never let me read or work in peace. You steal far too much of my chocolate and you shed even when you’re not a dog. But somehow, despite, well, _you_ , I’ve fallen for you.

If I had to say when the precise moment was that I fell completely in love with you, I think I have to say it was that one uneventful, boring, cold day fourth year before the winter hols. I was reading, as per usual, in the common room and you were flopped across my lap. You tried reading along with me, but you were complaining constantly because I was reading too fast and you couldn’t keep up. It was then that I decided that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shove you off of me or grab your face and kiss you. When you stole my book and ran up to the dorm, I didn’t even care. I would rather have spent time wrestling my book away from you than reading. I would rather have spent time with you than anything else. That’s when it hit me: I was mad about you. I hoped, for a long time, that it would go away, but it hasn’t. I don’t think it ever will.

To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m writing this letter. I know I will never give it to you. I’m more likely to rip this up and throw it in the fire in the common room than anything else. I guess I just needed to get it off my chest that I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with you, Sirius, and I know that love is a silly notion. I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.*

~M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you."  
> ~Augustus Waters - The Fault in Our Stars by John Green


	2. From The Desk of Messr. Padfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius finds Remus' letter and writes a response.

Moony,

I swear I wasn’t looking through your things again. I was just looking for some chocolate because I got hungry and didn’t feel like going ALL the way down to the kitchens (it is very far away from the dorm). And I was looking through your trunk and it kind of just fell out on the floor and I accidentally opened it. I really didn’t mean to, I swear. But the chocolate was good, at least. I’ll pay you back for that chocolate I borrowed – not stole – by the way.

But I found that letter you wrote.

Guess you didn’t throw it in the fire. Maybe you should’ve. Maybe not. Probably not.

I was going to find you and talk to you, but…I haven’t. Not yet, anyway. I’m really not sure what I’d say. Suppose that’s why I’m writing this instead. To organize my thoughts or some shit. Not like it’ll really help. My usually get all jumbled-like around you. But I think you’d be proud of me for writing things down like this. Or maybe you wouldn’t care, I don’t know.

But Moony… You shouldn’t love me. You’re supposed to be smart and logical and know what’s a good idea and what isn’t, and this isn’t a good idea. It’s probably your worst idea EVER to be honest. I guess you probably didn’t choose this though. You would’ve known better because this really is a terrible idea.

I’ll only hurt you. I’ll hurt you even though I don’t want to or don’t mean to or anything like that. I did it last year. You know I did. With that bloody stupid prank I played on Snivellus. And even though I promised I wouldn’t do anything like that again (and I really won’t, I mean it) we both know I’ll still hurt you in some other way. That’s what I do. I’m a Black. It’s in my blood.

But you… You’re good. You might be boring and tea and books and school but you’re so much more than that. You’re kind and caring and funny as hell and I like talking to you and being with you and…you’re my Moony. Me… I’m bad. I’m a fuck up. I’m a disinherited heir and I do stupid things and get into trouble and talk without thinking and hurt you more than I ever, ever wanted to. I’m no good. You know I’m no good.

But somehow you’re still my friend and you still care about me and even LOVE me and I’ve never been loved the way you’ve always loved me, Remus.

I can’t say I really understand the difference that those two words make that you wrote about. I got a bit distracted thinking about pudding. You think they’ll have some at dinner tonight? They’d better or we’ll have to sneak down to the kitchens later. I really want pudding. It’s your fault, you know. Curse you, Moony! Curse you!

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t understand. I don’t understand “love” and “being _in_ love”. I don’t really even know what that is, love. I never really have. The only thing I know for sure is that I care about you, Remus. A lot. You’re my best friend and I would do ANYTHING for you. I’m bad, yeah, but you make me _want_ to be _good_. You make me want to _try_ to be good even if it’s impossible. I want to be better for you.

I don’t know. I guess it’s daft, isn’t it? Or maybe not. I just…get all _warm_ inside when we’re together. And I like just being with you because I don’t have to pretend or hide my badness. And you make me smile and laugh and I want nothing more than to make you happy and spend all of my time with you and...

It’s like chocolate. You know I like chocolate. I like chocolate a lot. All of kinds of chocolate! Even the kind with the coconut in it that I know you hate. But just because I like all sorts of chocolate doesn’t mean I really _want_ all of them. I like chocolate from you best. It’s…special. It’s different from all the other kinds I’ve head. And I really, really love that kind of chocolate. I don’t want any others, just the kind from you. It’s like…that. I’d be happy with just your chocolate, Moony. It’s…….

Bloody hell, I’m in love with you.

It’s bad. I’M bad. But I love you, Remus John Lupin.

What the hell am I still doing writing this? I need to find you! You’re probably in the bloody library, aren’t you? You always are. I’d swear you love those books more than me, you berk. Guess I oughta find you ‘cause I’m in love you.

~Padfoot


End file.
